Wanted: Ruby Slippers

Must be in good, working condition, i.e. when I click my heels 3 times and repeat "There's no place like home", I'll end up back in Samoa.

It's time for the semi-regular homesick blog post, so tune out now if you're sick of it.

You know what really grates me? When some middle-class people from NZ visit another country where things don't run at the standard they expect and services may not be as good as they expect (or are just downright crap ... or non-existent even), then they return with "horror stories" about how awful it was. I turn double-Hulk especially when those people are Christians. (By the way, those "other countries" include but are not limited to Samoa).

I hate, hate, hate it when I see people so eager to pray for the lost, the less fortunate, the poor, etc and yet when dumped into a situation amidst those poor unfortunate people and all that is really reflected is self. I had a terrible time because the service was slow. I couldn't understand anything because no one spoke English. I didn't get what I want. I complained about their standards. I'm so glad I left. You had to pay to swim at the beach!

Pisses. Me. Off. Listen up, I've got a few things to say, and I'm gonna say it real nice:

If you voluntarily decide to buy a plane ticket and visit another country for recreational purposes, please do not expect everyone there to learn your language so they are able to understand you and cater to your every whim. If you really wanted to understand and be understood, learn their language. That country is their home, they have the right to speak whatever language they choose to.

You are no longer in your country. Whatever standard of service you receive here does not count for anything. Without having the full picture of the standard of living, cultural differences and economic situation (amongst other things) in that country or area, you don't really have a basis to determine what is an "acceptable" standard of service for what you are paying.

Have you ever considered that the unappetising food you received at the hospital, the long waits for whatever approval processes, the corrupt officials and the mosquitoes are what the locals are faced with. Every single day. Can you honestly tell me that your anger and complaints were for the "better good" so that the standards can be "raised", or were they really out of self-pity, or your expectation of what you think you deserve from life, or a misconception of what hardship can really mean? Did you take time out from drowning in your sorrows to bless someone? To put yourself in the shoes of those around you? Oh wait, they probably didn't have shoes. How unhygienic of them. Maybe that's why they couldn't run as fast to fetch the silver platter.

I miss home. Warts and all.

Bad romance

This post was initially an anti-Valentine's rant. Instead of that though, I will just share a true and (very) short story of my favourite Valentine's Day.

Once upon time there was a girl who went to Canterbury Uni. She met a hot boy there, and together they wagged classes, ate heaps of Chinese food and watched every movie released at the cinemas. When Valentine's Day rolled around, they had been together for over half a year (round about, they hadn't kept track so they also had no anniversary day as such). The girl did not expect to receive anything. She didn't believe in the Valentine's Day hype. The boy also wasn't too hot on this day, but perhaps he felt he had to get something for this girl, because he bought her red roses and a little teddy bear. When she received them, the girl was surprised but pleased. Then he followed up with the line that completed the awesomeness of the moment, and convinced her that he was the one for her. "Do you like them? I bought them using your EFTPOS card." 

The boy and girl got married and lived ... well, they lived, and still are. Living, that is.

The End.

And Gaga thought she could write a bad romance...ha!

P.S. The girl won't be buying the boy anything this Valentine's Day (following the tradition of all the previous ones), but she loves him truly, madly, deeply. Especially deeply.

Cheers big ears

Dear guy lying on my living room floor,

Thanks for putting up with my obsessive compulsive habits.
Thanks for understanding my need for a complete and concise explanation to everything.
Thanks for putting up with my terrible passenger seat driving.
Thanks for not saying anything about my shocking driver seat driving.
Thanks for accepting my crazy family as your own.
Thanks for forcing me to go to sleep when I'm about to collapse from exhaustion yet insisting that I must burn the midnight oil for work.
Thanks for knowing exactly when to switch the channel in anticipation of those reptiles-that-shall-not-be-named  appearing on the screen.
Thanks for understanding my gym allergy and my TV baking show obsession.
Thanks for your wit.
Thanks for having your own laptop so that I don't have to share mine.
Thanks for not letting me get away with being a dick.
Thanks for teaching me how to communicate.
Thanks for your money.
Thanks for being the yin to my yang.
Thanks for allowing me to be me and, despite how that may look/feel/act/sound on any given day, loving me regardless.

Happy 6th Anniversary.

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can't relate
And you're still here
("Everything" - Alanis Morisette)

Love,
The girl sitting on your couch